


Hold Me Whilst I Come Back

by Phoenixflames12



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 16:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21211775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixflames12/pseuds/Phoenixflames12
Summary: Not long after their wedding, Esther wakes from a nightmare and slowly Babington tries to bring her back to their reality.





	Hold Me Whilst I Come Back

**Author's Note:**

> The mutual support and trust in Esther and Babington's relationship hit me straight between the eyes in episodes 7 and 8 and thus, this was born.

_The night is drawing closer, the trees pressing in like great skeletal fingers, blackened and rancid in the darkness. _

_‘Esther,’ the wind cries, whistling through the branches. _

_‘Esther.’_

_‘Esther.’ _

_Each call of her name takes on Edward’s voice, the shadowed moonlight flickering through like malice in his dark eyes. _

_His grip is a vice against her arm, fingernails digging painfully into her skin as she had once held Clara’s burnt arm, dark eyes boring into ones of ice cold blue. _

_Fear laps at her throat as she twists away, falling backwards against the hem of her dress snagging against a tree root. _

_He grabs her then, pulling her up into a rough embrace, catching her chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the flash of something silvery sharp, an intake of breath hitching in her throat as the icy blade rests against it. _

_His eyes are cold and calculating and she tries to see past them, to see the Edward whom she had loved when they were children- all alone in the big, old house with only themselves and nanny for comfort. _

_‘You betrayed me,’ he murmurs now, each word sending a shiver of ice into her heart, his face twisted with hate. _

_‘You betrayed me with that scheming old hag, __you and that little bitch Clara_-‘

_The knife presses deeper into her throat, twisting so that blade nicks her skin, a shiver of blood catching against the tip. _

_‘I could make it quick, you know,’ he murmurs and she knows that he is relishing in the stink of her fear, just as he had relished in breaking the wings off little birds after he shot them and watching them thrash helplessly for far too long before putting them out of their misery when he was a little boy. _

_‘But why don’t I just do it slowly? So much more fun, don’t you agree?’ _

_‘You disgust me.’ The words are full of as much venom as she can muster, but they are a mere drop in the ocean of his power. _

_‘Oh, do I? And what are you going to do about that then?' _

_The knife twists harder, his other hand reaching behind her back to twist her arm, making her bite back a shout of pain. _

_‘Go running to that puppy Babington? I’d like to see you try. You…’ _

_The grip on her arm relaxes for just a moment and she twists forward, biting down against the back of his hand, until she’s sure that she has tasted blood. _

_‘You little bitch!’ _

_She stumbles back and flees before he knows what’s happening, running desperately through the forest of her nightmares, the trees growing taller, moving closer and closer together until she’s stumbling, tripping over and over again until blood blots the hem of her dress, blinded by tears of pain and rage. _

_Blindly moving onwards, her breath ripped from her lungs in great, sobbing cries for air into an unknown future, knowing that he will always haunt her, always be lurking in the shadows, just out of sight, but never out of mind. _

_Never out of…_

_And somewhere in the distance, in that unreachable distance at the edge of her conscious, someone is shouting her name, a voice that she still doesn’t know and yet…. _

‘Esther? Esther!’

Large, hard hands catch hold of her shoulders, holding her, stroking her hair as she struggles through what she suddenly realises is linen, tangled and soaked about her ankles, her breath coming out in strangled gasps that make it suddenly hurt to breathe

‘It’s all right. That’s it. Come back to me Esther…’

Babington’s low voice that sounds like the one that he uses when he is calming a nervous hound, seems close by and yet far away at the same time, the large, dark world spinning and pitching as she struggles to find her bearings.

‘Wh… Where am I?’

The question sounds so quiet, so painfully childlike that she wonders whether she’s spoken at all.

‘You’re home, my dear girl. You’re safe.’

His voice is a low rumble that makes her heart ache all the more for what she believed that she had lost.

Soft, dark eyes that are wide with worry flicker out of the gloom, a long, straight nose and a wide mouth that is tight with concern as he reaches across the bed to kiss her forehead, large, weathered fingers carding themselves through her tangled curls.

Instinctively she leans into his touch, his warm weight flooding through her, grounding her back to reality.

Here, in the shadowed darkness of their bedchamber that is full of his all-encompassing presence, she is safe.

Here she is home.

_Home. _

The word conjures up such a bewildering array of thoughts which she cannot give name to so that all she can do is let out a strangled sob.

‘What is it?’

_Edward. _

_Clara. _

_The serpent with the glowing scarlet eyes on Lady Denham’s drawing room floor curling itself tighter and tighter around her throat until she chokes…_

‘James.’

His name is a broken sob in her throat as she tries to shake the memories away.

Tries to ground herself within the new reality that only a few minutes ago had felt so secure, in the whisper of the ivy against the window, the soft breeze playing against the glass.

And yet as she does so, her mind is pulled back to Edward, watching the dark shapes of Edward and Clara entwined against the greenery of the floor mosaic, the serpents’ glowing scarlet eyes burning into her soul, the scent of his betrayal making everything else in that cold, dark room unbearable.

‘He won’t hurt you now. I- I have friends in London that have promised me that they will send word if Edward shows any signs of returning to Sanditon-‘

‘You don’t know that!’

Inexplicable fury suddenly washes over her like unquenched fire as she scrambles out of the bed, the musty tangle of linen that stank of their lovemaking earlier that night suddenly stifling.

‘You… You… You understand…_Nothing!’_

The words crash to in the silence like a shower of shattered glass, each one more jagged than the last, each one scorching her mouth, never to be uttered again.

Moonlight pools against the crisp ivory cotton of the sheets, catching the dark dip of his curls.

The floorboards are icy beneath her feet, gooseflesh erupting up her arms as she hugs them across her chest, suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable in the bare cotton of her shift.

A thousand accusations crash against her lips, each one more vehement than the last, all of them choking and breaking into a sudden howl of agony that bursts like a fountain of blood against her lips.

‘Oh, my darling.’ Babington makes to join her, but she finds that she cannot look at him.

Cannot bear to feel the warmth of his touch which reminds her of Edward and the way that he had touched her when they were little more than children as she trembles in the silence, watching the play of the night against the window, the beat of her heart agonisingly loud in her ears.

From somewhere behind her, she hears the hiss and flare of a taper being struck and a ball of wavering yellow light burns against the blackness.

‘Then help me. Help me to understand, Esther.’

He is at her shoulder now, his voice a low, desperate plea, his large hands that radiate warmth and support and kindness waiting to hold her, to break down the walls of cold disdain that she had built to try and protect herself.

To help put her shattered soul back together piece by shattered piece.

Squeezing her eyes shut against the memories, she tries to ignore the heat of unshed tears pricking at her eyelids.

Tries to focus on the low, deep rumble of his breathing. On stilling the frantic beat of her heart, the organ feeling as if it is a butterfly or bird trapped in one of her brothers’ glass jars with the stiff lids, beating frantically against the glass.

All of that is in the past now.

All of those memories that she no longer has to revisit each time he found her, a hardbacked hairbrush resting in his palm; a sly, cold smile that did not reach his eyes playing across his lips.

And yet.

And yet…

_Dear, sweet sister…._

‘Esther?’

_James. _

_My dear, sweet James, what could you possibly know? _

_What would you think of me if I told you everything that happened between us? Described everything that my brother’s sick, twisted fantasy created in gratuitous detail? What would you think of me then?_

In the silence she thinks that she can hear his heart reply, each word caught with the anguish of someone desperate to help, but unsure where to begin.

_I wouldn’t mind. _

_I just want you to trust me Esther. _

_Trust me and walk with me. _

_That’s all. _

Slowly, painfully, she exhales, the breath shattered and aching against her lungs.

Shards of salt burn against her cheeks but she is too tired to hold them back, slowly lifting her face to his.

Soft, dark eyes that glisten with his own emotions glow out from the candlelight as he slowly reaches to cup her cheek, wordlessly thumbing away her tears.

A sob catches in her throat at the sight of him and instinctively she moves closer, wanting nothing more than to be held like the frightened little girl she had been long ago.

The little girl who had run to a mother whom she can barely remember when the unspeakable monsters had overwhelmed her dreams.

Slowly, he reaches over to place a soft, chaste kiss against her forehead, tucking an escaped hank of hair behind her ear, his lips moist with salt.

She melts into his touch, hands balling themselves lightly against the linen of his nightshirt, the steady beat of his heart gently steering her back onto her course like a lighthouse guiding back a ship floundering in rocky shallows.

‘Just hold me,’ she murmurs, the words caught around a small sob. Her voice is lost in the scent of sleep and dense, male musk but it does not seem to matter as his arms encircle her, pulling her shivering body close.

‘Always,’ he murmurs, his head bent to the crown of her curls.

They stay there, framed by a silver wash of moonlight until her shoulders sag and he gently supports her drooping body, gently carrying her back to bed.

* * *

_ **Fin** _

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to read and review! Comments, suggestions, questions, constructive criticisms etc are like chocolate to my brain!
> 
> Much love and enjoy x


End file.
